Chosen of the Gods
by Akatsuki Leader13
Summary: Betrayed and broken, they found her, whispering to her of glory and power and revenge. Should she prove herself worthy of being a Champion of the Gods, the Chaos Gods.
1. The Choice

Yo everybody! I know I should be working on one of my other stories, but I've had these Avatar: the Last Airbender/Warhammer crossover ideas for quite some time, so I finally broke down and wrote a one-shot. I may do a couple of additional one-shots if I feel and/or this is well-received.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender or Warhammer Fantasy. Merely the few OCs in this story.

* * *

"You have bested every trial the Gods have tasked you with," Morax said as they walked through the camp. "You survived the journey across the Howling Sea alone. You gathered warriors to you, assembling a warband that will one day become a mighty army. You braved the ravenous beasts of Troll Country. You battled and slew dozens of other champions, adding their warriors to your own. But now, you face your greatest trial."

Azula said nothing as they walked. It had been over two years since the events of Sozin's Comet and her break down. And few months short of two years since she escaped from that wretched asylum. Azula remembered well what she had been like back then, how broken and pathetic she was. But as she languished in that place of empty souls and madness, they found her. The Chaos Gods. They whispered to her, putting back together the broken pieces of her mind, and promising her a chance to extract vengeance against those who had betrayed her and forced her into the asylum. When she escaped and stole a small merchant ship, they guided her across the unsailable Howling Sea, into forgotten lands, the Lands of the Hung, the Norse and the Kurgan.

The Lands of Chaos.

These lands were unlike where she came from. They had no nations here, merely dozens upon dozens of scattered tribes and roaming warbands, each lead by the strongest individual of the group. Even they even physically different from the people of her lands. They were taller, larger and stronger, born from countless generations of fighting every day just for survival against the numerous threats and dangers of these lands. They were a truly strong people.

By the end of her first day, Azula had learned just how brutal these lands were. With her firebending gone, all she had were knives and old swords that were aboard the ship. It took every ounce of her cunning and skill to survive. It was then that she realized just how weak and feeble the people of the Four Nations were. If someone threw them to wilds, the _true _wilds, few would stand a chance of surviving. The so-called civilizations of the Fire Nation, the Earth Kingdom, the lost Air Nomads, and to a lesser extent, the Water Tribes, bred weakness into their people. How else could an entire civilization, an entire people, slaughtered to a single child? It was the Air Nomads' own weak stance of pacifism that ensured their extinction. Just as the weaknesses of the other Nations would ensure their destruction.

Since then, Morax taught her much. He told her of the great wars between the armies of the Four Nations and the Chaos Hordes from centuries ago. Wars that her people-her _former_ people had chosen to forget because of how close they had come to being wiped out and the sheer horrors of what had been inflicted on them despite their ultimate triumphs. He taught of the tribes and the greatest of their chieftains and warlords, of their battles and their conquests, of their glories and legends. But above all else, he taught her of the Gods. They were beings far older than anything else, and for a time, they had been trapped in their own realm, until one day, thousands of years ago, in the heart of one of the two great continents, they tore through the barrier that separated their realm from the mortal world, starting the First Great War of Chaos. Legions of daemons flooded into the world, overwhelming the lands of mortals and spirits. For years and years they clashed, tearing apart the world beneath their feet as the endless daemon legions slowly ground down the armies of mortals and spirits. But in the end, the greatest of the spirits devised a plan to end the war. They sacrificed themselves, using their powerful essences to seal the opening, for the daemons were beings of pure energy, sustained by the raw energies from the rift. With their act of sacrifice completed and the rift contained, many daemons were instantly thrown back into their realm while the others were thrown into complete disarray, leaving them vulnerable to the armies of the mortals and spirits. The Legions of Chaos were beaten, _but _not destroyed. The rift remained, contained but unsealed, for it was beyond the ability of anyone to completely seal, allowing their energies to slowly seep into the world, rendering the lands around it as well as the mortals living there, open to their influence. And over the years following the war, the mortal beings of these lands had become servants of the Gods, one way or another. However, the Gods rewarded their servants well, provided that they did not endure too many failures.

Something Azula understood quite well.

For months, Azula trained and fought, tested constantly to determine if she was even worth what the Gods had done to bring her here. As she endured these trials and became stronger, word of her accomplishments spread, drawing warriors and a few small tribes to her, forging an army. But creating rivals and enemies as well. There were countless others who sought the favor of the Gods and only a few, the strongest few, would gain their greatest favor.

Azula was going to be one of those few.

She could feel it.

Azula and Morax stopped at the edge of the camp, staring out at the temple. It had been built into a mountain of pure black rock, but warped and shaped like it had been made in a fit of rage by a powerful earthbender. At the base of the mountain was the only part of the temple exterior that was made by man, a massive stone gate, the star of Chaos emblazoned on the twin doors.

"This is an ancient temple of the Gods," Morax said. "Countless champions have entered these doors, only a few have ever emerged. But they emerged with the favor of the Gods. It is here, Azula of the East, that you will meet your destiny."

She turned to Morax, her sorcerer and advisor. The hunched over man stood on a few inches taller than her. His body had been warped and mutated by the powers he wielded, but the worst was concealed by his long black robes. There were a pair of horns emerged from the top of his hood, though whether they were coming from his head or merely a part of his robe, Azula didn't know, for he never took off his hood. His skin was an unnaturally pale color. He held a wooden staff with a number of bones and skulls tied around the top in his left hand. It was impossible for him to hold it in his right hand because his fingers on that hand had become tentacles that seemed to move.

Morax had been the first person Azula had encountered after arriving. He claimed that the Chaos Gods had told him that she was coming and that he was to help prepare her for what was to come. To prepare her for this moment.

"Do you know what lies in there?" Azula asked.

"Whatever the Gods feel will challenge you," Morax answered. "Not knowing is part of the challenge. But I do know that you will encounter a challenge from each of the Gods. Should you past the trials, the Gods will demand that you choose a single patron to dedicate yourself to."

"Must I only choose one?"

"Perhaps if you prove yourself truly great. But the Gods are rivals and they seldom like to share the greatest of champions dedicated to Chaos."

Azula nodded her head but didn't say anything as she turned back to the temple. "Vulric!" she called out.

A large, scarred man rose from a nearby fire and approached them. Her second, Vulric the Bloody Axe, was the Chieftain of the Black Fist Tribe and a formidable warrior and leader. He wore simple cloth pants with leather boots and armor plates on his shins. Around his waist was chain attached to a round iron plate with the eight-sided star of Chaos. There was no armor on his scarred chest, revealing layers of thick muscle. The only thing on his chest was a pair of crossing leather belts, reaching from his shoulders down his waist. Resting on shoulders was a pelt of brown fur. He wore a pair of metal braces on his forearms while his right hand was painted entirely black, in the tradition of his tribe. Hanging from his belt were two axes, his famed weapons. He had long black hair that was beginning to gray along with a matching beard that had several braids running through it. His left eye was gone, lost to the claws of beast years ago while his remaining good eye was focused on her.

"I will be entering the temple," Azula said to him. "Watch the camp until I return. No one else is to enter the temple."

"Yes, my lady," he replied, bowing his head. They both knew that Morgar Felblade and his warband were still scouring the region, searching for her, fuming over his defeat at her hands weeks earlier in the Eastern Steppes. And they knew that his warband outnumbered them three to one. "No one will enter the temple."

Azula nodded before walking off to the temple. The temple doors as though sensing her approach, slowly slid open, revealing a darkened passage, lit only by torch.

She stopped at the threshold of the temple, taking a moment to mentally prepare herself for what was to come. When was ready, Azula stepped forward, entering the temple and heading towards her destiny.

* * *

The halls of the temple were dark and ancient, built numerous years before she arrived. There were bones on the walls as well as various crudely painted images and runes. But was more concerning to Azula was the shadows that ran along the hall. She encountered dangerous creatures that hid in the shadows, waiting to ambush a passing traveler. Azula drew her two swords from their sheaths at her waist. She wore leather armor over her body, which would provide with some protection while not hindering her speed. But Azula had seen plenty of creatures with claws that could slice through chainmail like it was little more than wheat. Her speed was her greatest asset if she was to survive.

Suddenly, a heavy wheezing breathing sound crept up behind her. It was fast, but Azula was faster. As a clawed hand swung down on her head, Azula spun around, a blade slicing through its wrist while her second sword was thrust into its neck. The scrawny ghoulish creature let out a loud, wet gurgling sound as flailed its good arm around, blood coming out of its mouth. Within seconds, it was dead and Azula was kicking it off her sword. It was a vile ghoul. Once it had been a man, but years of cannibalism had warped him into a blood-crazed beast.

At that moment, feral howls and shouts filled the hall. Azula could see shadowy shapes approaching her. She raised up her swords, ready to fight them, she was not going to die at the hands of some degenerate beasts.

* * *

Azula entered into the chamber at the end of the hallway, blood dripping from her swords. The ghouls had been little more than a nuisance for her. A long time ago, they would have been a serious threat, but not anymore.

She took a moment to study her surroundings. It was a simple room, octagonal in shape with a closed gate directly in front of her. The six other walls had murals on them, depicting Champions of Gods standing victorious over conquered foes. The gate ahead of her was stained with dripping blood…no, the very gate itself was bleeding. The only other thing on the doors, were eight brass alcoves, each with a skull resting in it.

Without looking back, without hesitating, Azula moved forward, pushing the gate open, entering the next chamber.

The chamber was not manmade, but rather a natural cavern, filled with far too many stalagmites and stalactites to be natural. Nor could the endless dripping blood that was pooling underneath them be considered natural. She had only taken a few steps into the room when the gate slammed shut. Azula glanced back, just in case there was someone or something there waiting to ambush her. As she looked back for a second, the blood on the floor began to move, gathering at the far end of the cavern. Azula watched as the blood pooled together, ready for whatever was coming.

A blood covered figure atop a large, equally blood covered beast emerged. The blood poured down from the pair, revealing them. The rider was a horned, red-skinned daemon holding a sword. It was a double-edged sword, a sword made not of metal but of black flesh. The edge of the blade was not straight like a sword, but made of razor sharp teeth. And where the blade met the hilt was a yellow unblinking eye. Its mount was a beast akin to a Komodo Rhino, but made of brass and burning blood rather flesh and blood. It was a Champion Bloodletter of Khrone, wielding a daemonsword and riding a Juggernaut.

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Skull Throne! Souls for the Soul Eater!" it roared, urging its mount forward, charging at Azula.

At the last possible second, Azula dove out of its path and the Juggernaut slammed into the gate with the force of a landslide. But whatever magics and enchantments that were at work here in the temple prevented the gate from shattering. The Bloodletter turned its beast around. While the gate hadn't been damaged in the slightest, the Juggernaut wasn't so lucky. Its horn had been broken it off and their cracks and rents on its brass skull.

The beast and rider roared, barreling once more towards Azula, who was standing amid the stalagmites and stalactites. The Juggernaut tore through the stone spikes, smashing them with its body as it drew closer to Azula.

But to their surprise, when they tore through the stalagmite she was hiding behind, there was no sign of her. "Coward!" the Bloodletter screamed. "Fight-"

At that moment Azula appeared, leaping off a stalactite hanging next to the daemons. She slammed into the Bloodletter, throwing it off the Juggernaut. As the two landed on the ground, the Juggernaut let out a furious roar and spun around, facing the pair. With its rider no longer atop it to maintain control over it, the raging beast was now free to do as it pleased. The beast stomped its foot upon the ground. Azula and the Bloodletter climbed back up to their feet. They glanced at each other for a moment before turning their complete attention to the Juggernaut. The beast let out another deafening roar before charging at the two. Azula leapt right while the daemon leapt left, thrusting their swords into the creature's belly as it passed. Azula's sword sparked as it scraped across the brass skin, leaving a long rent across its side. The Bloodletter's daemonsword cut through the creature's belly smoother than Azula's sword, opening up a greater wound. However, while the daemonsword was undamaged by the brass skin and burning blood of the Juggernaut, Azula's blade wasn't so lucky. The tip had been broken off and the burning blood of the Juggernaut had lit the blade on fire. Azula threw away the weapon and gasped her remaining sword with both hands.

Blood from the Juggernaut poured onto the ground, burning like lit lamp oil. The brass beast staggered as it lost more and more blood. But the dying beast wasn't quite done yet. It roared and ran headlong at the closest target, the Bloodletter. The daemon roared back as its former mount raced towards it. The Bloodletter swung its sword in horizontal arc, slicing into the Juggernaut's head, killing it instantly. Its body collapsed, sliding across the ground before coming to a stop.

With the beast dead, the Bloodletter turned its attention and its fury upon Azula. "Blood for the Blood God!" it shouted. "Skulls for the Skull Throne!"

"Yes. You will make a suitable offering for the Lord of Battles," Azula replied, twirling her sword in her hand.

The daemon snarled and leapt forward, closing the distance between the two. The Bloodletter swung its weapon down upon its shorter opponent. But Azula was faster, narrowly sidestepping the daemonblade before thrusting her sword into its chest. It howled, more in annoyance rather than pain. The Bloodletter swiped at Azula's face with its clawed hand. This time, Azula wasn't fast enough. A trio of cuts opened up on her left cheek. Azula grimaced, hissing in pain as she stumbled back. The daemon didn't let up, furiously attacking Azula, who barely managed to pull her sword up to defend herself in time. However, her sword was a simple manmade weapon of steel while the Bloodletter held a daemonsword, a weapon empowered by the daemon imprisoned within it. The blade of daemon's weapon caused cracks and chips within her sword every time they met. It wouldn't be long before the sword shattered under the daemon's blows.

Which happened much sooner than she expected.

With a single powerful blow, Azula's sword shattered into two large pieces and dozens of smaller fragments.

The Bloodletter smirked in triumph as Azula staggered back, staring at her broken weapon. "Blood for the Blood God!" it shouted, preparing to seal its victory. "Skulls for the Skull-"

Suddenly, Azula stabbed her broken weapon into its left shoulder. The Bloodletter howl at Azula just before backhanding her. Azula was thrown back by the strong blow, crashing on the ground several feet away. The Khornate daemon tore the broken sword from its shoulder as it approached her. Azula looked up at it as the daemon loomed over her, raising its weapon up. "Do you know what you biggest mistake was?" she calmly asked.

Before the daemon could strike, Azula swung her left arm up, her hand clenched around her other sword, with the Juggernaut's burning blood still on it. The burning weapon tore into the daemon's chest, lodging itself there. The Bloodletter screamed and howled, dropping its weapon as it tried to remove the weapon. Azula grabbed the daemonsword, lifting the surprisingly light weapon up. With a single swing, Azula sliced its neck, severing its head.

However, the instant the daemon's head hit the ground; spikes erupted out of the daemonsword's handle, stabbing into Azula's flesh. But that wasn't all. Azula let out a pained groan as she clutched her head with her left hand. The daemon within the sword was trying to take over her body. She fought back, throwing every ounce of her will against the daemon. "I...will…not…let…you…win…" Azula grunted. "I…will _not _fall here! It is not my destiny to die here!"

The daemon snarled, clawing at her mind, screaming for blood and battle. "Serve me and I will give you what you crave. Fight me and I will make sure that you never _ever_ taste blood again," she said, staring directly into the eye of the blade as she began to push the daemon back.

The daemon let out snarl in her mind, but relented, retracting the spikes, submitting to her. Azula lifted the sword to her face, a smile on her face. "Yes, Gorrumalxa. I will be leaving this place for greater battles and glories. Serve me well and you will get your share of the blood."

* * *

Azula stood before the next gate, studying it. The gate was old, ancient, made of wood and iron. But the wood was rotting and the iron holding it together was rusted and corroded. There were also seven gaping holes in the doors, with flies crawling in and out.

With Gorrumalxa in hand, pushed the doors open, entering the next chamber. It was another cavern, filled with putrid water. Under the water, she could see a narrow land bridge stretching out from the small ledge at the entrance to the end of the cavern. But the rest of the water was deep, beyond what Azula could see.

"Nurgle," Azula said to herself, staring into the water. It was clear that the last trial was from Khorne. This was clearly from the Lord of Decay.

Azula stepped into the cold, dark water, suppressing a shiver as she began walking. Aside from her movements through water, the cavern was deathly silent. Azula didn't like it.

Suddenly, a rotting corpse shot up from the water on her left side. Before Azula could react, the corpse bit into her shoulder, its black teeth tearing through her leather armor. Azula growled in pain and fury, thrusting her daemonsword into the corpse's chest, the blade tip erupting out of the back of its neck. She shoved the rotting body off of her, sending it back into the water. But the damage was already done. She could feel an infection rapidly flooding her body. And at that very moment, more shambling corpses rose from the murky waters. Former warriors who had failed this trial and were now a part of it. Raising rusted weapons, they crept towards her.

Nurgle's test had begun.

Azula shivered, feeling the beginnings of a fever emerge within her body. She would not let this disease or these shambling corpses stop her. One of the corpses lunged at her with a rusted axe. With a roar, Azula swung her sword, slicing through from shoulder to waist, severing the dead man in two. But as it fell into the water, two more rose up from beneath the waters.

Another moving corpse struck, swinging a broadsword in a horizontal arc. But Azula was faster, ducking under the blade and slashing at the corpse's legs, causing it fall. Azula spun and sliced through a third before pausing, letting out a hacking cough. Once she stopped coughing, she looked up. Many more corpses had risen up, creeping towards her. Worse, the disease was starting to affect her more adversely. Despite standing in freezing water, she was burning up. Her joints were beginning to throb and she was finding it harder to maintain her sense of balance as her sinuses filled with mucus and fluid.

She had to finish this trial before the disease overwhelmed her.

Ignoring the slow moving dead creatures, Azula ran forward, hacking and slashing through the few that were directly ahead of her. More emerged ahead of her as she let out a series of loud, hoarse coughs, forcing her to stop.

Suddenly, a legless corpse leaped up onto her back, trying to force her down into the water. A hand shot out, grabbing her right ankle, joined by another grabbing her left wrist. Azula fought back, trying to break free from their grasp. But the disease that was afflicting her was sapping her strength, making her easier prey for the rotting warriors.

It didn't matter though; she didn't stop fighting, even as more and more corpses approached her. Where once there had been a handful, now there were dozens upon dozens of dead warriors, eager to drag her down into their underwater tomb.

Everything seemed hopeless. If she managed to break free from their grasp, she still had to contend with the numerous walking corpses, and if she managed to best them, there was still the disease she was fighting. In the end, one would get her; it was only a matter of time.

"NO!" she screamed, her voice dry and raspy, refusing to accept it. Blocking out the afflictions of the disease with sheer willpower, she pulled her left arm close to her body as she swung Gorrumalxa down, cutting through the arm holding her. And as her sword went down, she turned her arm, ending her arc by slicing through the wrist of the other arm. Then she grabbed the left arm of the corpse on her back, pulling its head over to left shoulder and jabbed her blade into its head, tearing the head off. The body went limp, falling off of her.

With the rotting head still on her sword, she lashed out at pair of dead warriors ahead of her, cutting through their bodies like they were little more than rotten pumpkins, before Azula continued running across the narrow strip of land.

She was no fool. These corpses were relentless, unending beings, powered by the magics of the Plague God himself. They would not until she either died or completed the trial.

A rotting warrior, armed with a rusted spear, rose up behind her. Without pausing, it threw the spear. The weapon flew through the air, stabbing through Azula's back. She yelled out in pain, falling to her knees.

It hurt horribly, but Azula knew she couldn't let it slow her down. Using every last shred of willpower, she got up to her unsteady feet. But at that very moment, another dead warrior emerged at her side, a pair of old daggers in its hands, stabbing them into Azula's left shoulder and side, before sliding back into the water. Azula howled in pain, falling to her hands and knees. She pulled her head up, staring at the end of her path.

She was close… so very close… Only mere feet from the gate at the end of the room.

As though sensing her presence, the gates slowly started to open. All she had to do was get there and the trial would be over.

Azula violently coughed, hacking up blood into the water, joining the blood flowing from her wounds. Her injuries or the disease, either way, she wouldn't last much longer if she stayed. Using every last ounce of physical and mental strength she had, Azula crawled forward, inching towards the gate. Her inflamed joints groaning, her vision blurring, her wounds screaming out, but she didn't stop. She couldn't.

She pulled herself onto the small ledge the gate stood on, dragging herself across it. Finally, she crossed the threshold of the gate before collapsing, gasping for breath. Azula managed to turn her head, looking back at the cavern. The corpses stopped, frozen, before falling down one by one like a puppet with its cut. With the threat gone, Azula slumped down, breathing still heavy.

After a few moments, Azula managed to regain a fraction of her strength, sitting herself up. She gripped the dagger in her shoulder and screamed, pulling it out in a single, painful pull. To her amazement, the wound closed itself up, leaving no trace of it. And it was at that moment, she realized that the disease that had been afflicting her body was gone. Clearly, Nurgle was pleased with her and was making sure that she was fit for the remaining trials.

She turned her attention to the dagger in her side. Crying out again, she yanked out the second dagger, breathing heavily from the pain as the wound healed itself. Finally, she turned her attention to the spear still in her body. Gripping the shaft sticking out from her back, she pulled, screaming as she slowly pulled it out. After several strong pulls, she managed to remove the spear and wound closed up. Azula slumped forward, panting as she recovered.

Grabbing Gorrumalxa, Azula pulled herself up and continued forward.

* * *

There was a heady aroma filling the air and Azula's nostrils. The scent was strong, but not overwhelming, like a hundred of greatest perfumes interwoven together perfectly. As she breathed it in, Azula felt good…no, great. A smile spread across her face as she came to a marble gate. She pushed it open, paying no heed to the six leering faces that had been carved into the marble.

The gate opened up to a balcony on the Palace of the Fire Lord. An ornate throne and a pair of servant girls were waiting there for her. "Welcome back, my Lord," one girl said as they bowed before her. "Your subjects are eagerly awaiting you."

Azula walked over to the edge of the balcony, staring down on the hundreds, thousands of her loyal subjects. The instant they saw her, they began to cheer and praise her, their perfect, glorious ruler. The smile on Azula's face grew wider. Everything was perfect.

She sat down on her throne, content to listen to the praise of her subjects as her servants began pampering her.

"_It's a lie…"_ a voice whispered.

Azula ignored it as her servant began cleaning her face while the other removed the leather gloves she was wearing.

"_These aren't your people...not anymore…" _the voice insisted. _"They turned their backs on you…they chose that traitor over you…"_

A slight frown crossed Azula's lips as one servant began giving her a manicure as the other began applying makeup. "No they wouldn't," she said.

"_Yes, they did. Remember!"_ the voice…her voice replied. _"They left you locked up in that damned asylum!"_

The sky darkened and the cheers grew quiet. Azula's frown deepened. Asylum? She hadn't been in an asylum…hadn't she? Her head began to ache. The heavenly aroma seemed to increase, taking away her worries.

It didn't matter if she had been in an asylum. The skies began to lighten as the cheers grew again.

But the voice didn't quit. _"This_ _isn't real! It's nothing more than a trick! A part of the trial!"_

"A trick?" she mumbled.

It didn't seem right. Everything was too real to be a trick… It was just too impossible.

"_Remember the Flesh Sirens,"_ her voice demanded. _"When we encountered them, they had already ensnared four tribes in their vile sorcery-illusions. They almost had us in this very illusion as they tried to sacrifice us to the Dark Prince of Pleasure!"_

Once more the crowds became silent as black clouds blocked out the sun. Only the two servants continued their work. She remembered that cult of witches and how they ensnared her and her men with mind-numbing illusions of everything they ever desired as they prepared to sacrifice them to Slaanesh.

Azula turned to the servant manicuring her hand. "Tell me, servant, what is the name of this city?"

"It is the Capital City, my Lord," the girl replied as more and more of the aroma filled the air.

"Yes, but what is its name?" she demanded, ignoring the aroma.

The girl hesitated, as though unsure of what to say. But before she could say anything, Azula grabbed Gorrumalxa and sliced her head off, causing her fellow servant to back away in shock.

However, the head and body that hit the ground was not human. It was another daemon. This one a pale, hermaphroditic creature of Slaanesh.

The illusion was shattered. The balcony was gone, replaced with a chamber. The walls were covered in purple and pink silk cloth, while numerous incense burners hung from the ceiling. The throne Azula was sitting on was made of human bones stacked and arranged together into a throne, with flayed and tanned human skin stretched over the back and seat of the throne.

And the other servant girl was another daemon of the Dark Prince.

It snarled, raising its crab-like pincer clawed hands. Azula leapt from the throne, swinging her daemonsword down on the daemon. But it was fast, catching the blade with its claws. "Fast little bitch, aren't you?" Azula commented.

The daemon hissed, kicking her with a clawed foot, leaving a shallow cut in her armor, following up with a lightning fast slash at Azula's head. But Azula was fast enough to block it with her daemonsword. Had it been a normal blade of steel, she doubted it would have withstood the attack.

"Ugly too," Azula added.

Furious at her insult, the daemon howled and lunged at Azula, who barely managed to sidestep the creature's attack, causing it to tear into the throne. At that instant, both spun around, slicing at the other.

A shallow gash opened up across Azula's extended arms, causing her to grimace and hiss in pain. But her blade struck true, bisecting the daemon. For a moment, it stood there, dark purple blood pouring from its abdomen before its top fell, joined quickly by its lower half. It laid there for a moment, its shape blurring as it faded away, returning to the Realm of Chaos.

"Slaanesh, Nurgle and Khorne," Azula said out loud, turning to the exit of the chamber. "Only Tzeentch's trial remains."

* * *

Azula stood before the next gate, studying it. The gate was made of dark stone with nine glowing crystals arranged in a circle. Each crystal glowed a different color for a few seconds before randomly changing to another. She pushed open the gate, entering the chamber, ready for whatever trial was before her.

The chamber was bare, save for the torches on the walls and a circular platform at the end. As soon as she entered, the gates closed and eight blue fires appeared, surrounding the platform, with a larger ninth fire on the platform itself.

The fires burned for a minute or two before a figure appeared within the large fire. The figure stepped out of the fire, complete unharmed by it. Azula gasped at who it was.

Standing there was Azula herself, wearing the same armor, with the same injuries and hold Gorrumalxa.

"You're me…" Azula uttered. "I'm supposed to fight myself?"

"All who tread upon the path of Chaos must fight themselves at one point. Their greed, their hope, their fear, or their anger will threaten to overcome them," her copy replied. "Which will overcome you?"

Her doppelganger lunged forward. Daemonblade met daemonblade. They were locked their, struggling to overpower the other. But neither could, for they were evenly matched. The imposter kicked Azula in the stomach, knocking her back. She sneered. "I'm the one person you could never _ever_ defeat, Azula."

The imposter struck, slashing at Azula, but she jumped back, narrowly avoiding the sword, only to be hit by a roundhouse kick, throwing her to the ground. "I'm you, Azula. I know you every move. I know your every strategy. You can't defeat me."

"Do you know this?" Azula shouted, throwing a fistful of dust, dirt and pebbles at the doppelganger.

The fake threw up her arm, shielding her eyes. "Yes," she said with a smirk. "Ready to admit defeat?"

Azula scowled, leaping to her feet. "Never!" she shouted, swinging her blade.

The two clashed, blocking, parrying and countering every move the other made. The imposter brought up another kick, only to have Azula catch her leg. "It cuts both ways, fake. As you know all of my moves, I know all of yours," she said.

Her doppelganger scowled, swinging her sword at her. But Azula parried the blade with her own, knocking it away and followed up with a headbutt to her face, throwing the fake to the ground.

Gripping the sword with both hands, Azula swung it down on her head, but her imposter rolled out of the way and tripped Azula. Then she flipped onto her feet, bringing her weapon down, only to have Azula twist her body out of the weapon's path. Her double didn't let up, stabbing at the ground as Azula wormed away from her. "Quit being a coward!" the fake growled in frustration, only to have Azula kick her in the stomach.

"Not cowardice, strategy," Azula replied, climbing to her feet.

"Doesn't matter," the fake said. "We'll keep fighting until you tire, Azula. Then I'll just kill you."

Azula laughed. "Do you honestly believe that this fight will last that long? I've already come up with a dozen ways to kill you."

Her doppelganger laughed back. "You don't get it, do you? I'm you! Every possible plan, every possible move, everything you can do, I know. You can't beat me, because you can't beat yourself!"

"We'll see."

Once again, they clashed. Azula swung at her imposter, who blocked the strike, and Azula struck back with a kick, only to have it countered with a low kick to her other shin. As Azula stumbled back, her double struck Azula with her fist and then kneed her in the chest.

She laughed as Azula fell back to ground. Azula just couldn't believe it. No matter what she tried, her double seemed to know any and every move she had. Never had she faced an opponent who could so utterly counter and block her every move. She needed to come up with some kind of plan to defeat her.

Azula quickly got back up to her feet, lunging at her doppelganger, but the imposter back-flipped, the blade of Azula's sword missing her by mere inches. The second the fake landed, she lashed back, stabbing at Azula, who pivoted her body, the sword sliding past her. Suddenly, the double twisted the sword and pulled it towards her, forcing Azula to bend over backwards to avoid it.

When the sword passed her, Azula flipped onto her hands, then back onto her feet, watching her doppelganger cautiously. There had to be way to defeat her. She just had to think.

The fake struck, swinging her sword wildly at Azula, forcing her to back away, dodging her swings.

Her double claimed that she knew every move and strategy that she herself knew. If that was true, then about the only way she could win was by thinking outside the box. Which was easier said than done. No matter what she did, her copy would merely block it or dodge it or otherwise counter it, like any normal warrior would.

That's when the thought entered her mind. It was crazy, but completely unexpected for anyone to do.

Azula stopped, allowing her doppelganger's weapon to cut into her side. She cried out in pain as it bit into her flesh. The imposter was completely surprised that she allowed herself to be hit. With her left hand, Azula grabbed the blade of the daemonsword, cutting her hand but holding the weapon in place before thrusting her own weapon into her double's throat. So utterly caught off guard by Azula allowing herself to be stabbed, she didn't react in time and the blade tore into her throat. Grunting, Azula pulled out the sword from her body. "Told you."

The fake fell to her knees, gurgling blood. She stared at Azula in shock, unable to believe what had just happened. Azula just smirked as she collapsed, the last of the life leaving her body. The instant the copy died, her body and sword burst into blue flames, dying out within seconds while Azula hissed out in pain as blue fire erupted from her wound, closing it.

The trial of Tzeentch was over…

Azula was victorious.

However, there was no way out of the room. "Well? Have I not passed your trials? Have I not conquered every challenge, every opponent, you've thrown before me?" she shouted. "Am I not worthy? Will you not give me the power to enact my revenge, to enact _our_ revenge?"

At that moment, as though answering her shouts, the wall at the end of the chamber started shifting, opening up and revealing another gate, the final gate.

The doors of the final gate slowly pulled back, opening by unseen hands, revealing a large circular chamber. Azula entered the chamber, scanning the room for any threats. The stonework of this chamber was far older than anything else she had seen in the temple. Most of the stone titles that made up the ground were dull gray, but not all. A number of black stones were in floor, forming a giant eight-sided star with braziers burning at each point. Oddly, the walls were completely obscured in shadows.

Azula stepped into the center of the star. The instant she did, the gate slammed shut and disappeared into the shadows. Once it vanished, the four fires burning on the four main points of the star extinguished and four gateways appeared.

The first gateway appeared to have been shaped from green rotting flesh, with random, broken, bone-like horns jutting out. At the top of its arch was a large bulbous mass of rotting flesh and broken boney horns. At its center was a rusted circle, with three smaller circles in a triangular pattern. The rune of Nurgle, the Lord of Decay.

The gateway on its right was made of two pairs of spiked brass pillars, decorated with skulls. On top of the pillars sat a fifth bar of brass and skulls. Stacked onto that bar was an X made of the same brass and skulls with another bar running through the center of it. The very gate was a rune. The rune of Khorne, the Blood God.

Next, was a gate carved, or perhaps grown, from giant blue crystals. From the ground rose two uneven crystalline columns. Small indents had been cut into the columns, providing small holders for candles that burned with small colorful fires. The arch was a giant crown with nine jutting points; the ninth and central point was the largest. All across the entire structure were countless glowing runes and sigils that danced and wormed their around its surface. Above the ninth point was a blue fireball shaped in a crescent rune. The rune of Tzeentch, the Changer of Ways."

The final gate, like the first, had been created from flesh. But unlike that gateway, the flesh of this one was healthy, with pale pink skin. The pillars of the gate appeared to be more like slim, shapely legs, complete with talons on its feet. On top of the arch, where the legs ended, a female form from the waist up stood. The women's arms were stretched out, clasping pink fires, their faces frozen in an expression of rapturous pleasure. In between them was a third female form, her arms spread out, as though embracing someone. On her chest was a purple rune that looked like a fusion of the male and female symbols. The rune of Slaanesh, the Prince of Pleasure.

Underneath the gateway of Nurgle, a figure emerged. They wore a green tattered cloak over large green armor trimmed with bronze and resting on the breastplate was the bronze rune of Nurgle. There were numerous gashes and rents in the armor, from which oozing green liquids dripped and black flies crawled in and out while grizzly trophies hung from the armor. From their waist, on chains and ropes hung skulls and shrunken heads while other heads and skulls were tied to other part of their armor. Upon the warrior's head was a bronze colored helmet with a single horn on the helmet's forehead. Across the lower section of the helmet were series of small circle holes, with the occasional fly buzzing in and out. Above those openings were two eye slits, from which amber eyes stared out. Hanging from the warrior's side was Gorrumalxa. In the warrior's hand was a scythe that was as long as the warrior was tall, its blade covered in rust and filth while a horde of black flies buzzed around the warrior.

"Grandfather Nurgle knows your pain. How your own family either hated you or used you. How all who claimed to care abandoned you. How you languished in that cage, unloved by all," the warrior rasped in a voice Azula knew all too well. It was her own. "But Grandfather Nurgle loves all. Embrace the Lord of Decay, and never again will you be unloved. His gifts will make you strong. No more shall you feel pain. No more will you fear death. All things wither and rot. But with the blessing of Nurgle, never shall you die. Embrace your destiny. Embrace Nurgle."

Across from Nurgle's gate, a second warrior emerged from the gate of Slaanesh. This warrior was clad in black armor trimmed with pink, armor that hugged her slim form. From her leather belt, a pink cloth with the golden sigil of Slaanesh hung down between her legs. She wore no boots on her feet, for her feet were now cloven hooves. Hanging from her neck was golden talisman encrusted with glittering jewels. Stretched over the plates of her shoulder armor were flayed human skins. She wore no helmet, but rather a beautiful and alluring smiling golden mask. From the open, grinning mouth of the mask, the warrior's abnormally long tongue shot out, licking her lips underneath the mask. Her long black hair was tied up in a topknot, held in place by a small skull. In her right hand was Gorrumalxa while in her left hand was a coiled barbed whip.

"Slaanesh knows your desires. He knows of how you always strive for perfection, from yourself and from all else. He knows of how you wish to extract such exquisite vengeance on those who wronged you," she said, her voice seductive and alluring. "Come to Slaanesh. Experience pleasures far greater than any mortal can comprehend and then inflict them on the weak-minded. Witness your enemies writhing in agony before you, yet begging for more. With the Dark Prince's blessings, you'll ensnare your enemies with but a word, with but a look. Watch them bow before you, make them act like dogs; make them kill themselves just to please you. What can be more perfect than that? Come to Slaanesh and rejoice in endless pleasures.

A third image of herself emerged from the gateway of Khorne. Wearing plate armor that still showed off the shape of her body, colored of crimson and brass, adorned with skulls and chains, and stained with blood, she stood. Around her neck was a spiked brass collar, the rune of Khorne inscribed on it. On her back was black cape with skulls woven into it in the shape of Khorne's rune. She wore no helmet and her long black hair was wild and untamed. Upon her brow was a pair of animal-like horns. She snarled, revealing razor sharp teeth. Her armored right hand was clenched around her daemonsword. In her other hand was a wicked looking axe, inscribed with glowing red runes.

"Khorne knows your rage. You hate those who betrayed you and tore you from your throne. You want nothing more than to spill their blood, tear their bodies, cut off their heads and rip out their hearts," the third vision snarled, bloodlust radiating from her voice. "Bow to the Skull Throne. Unleash your rage and embrace the warrior within. With the power of Lord Khorne following through your veins, you'll crush your enemies, turning the rivers red with their blood, grinding their bones to dust, and offer their skulls to the Skull Throne. Smash cities into rubble, split open mountains, rend the very ground asunder, all will fear your might and power. Bow to the Skull Throne and reap the rewards of Khorne."

The fourth and final Azula appeared, stepping out from under the gate of Tzeentch. This one wore dark blue robes with gold trim and woven sigils of arcane power. She wore was a golden breastplate, trimmed with dark blue and with the glowing rune of Tzeentch upon it. Around her waist was a golden belt, from which Gorrumalxa hung. A golden talisman with a glowing crystal eye hung from her neck. Her forearms and hands were covered in matching gauntlets with glowing sapphires on the back of the hands. She held metal staff that constantly changed colors and inscribed with ever-changing runes. Atop the head of the staff was the golden crescent symbol of Tzeentch with a glowing jade in it. Her long black hair was braided into a ponytail with a number of glowing gems woven into the braid; likewise, her bangs were styled into smaller braids, ending with a pair of golden sigils. Upon her forehead was a third eye that scanned back and forth across the chamber.

"Tzeentch knows you well. You, who manipulated others into carrying out your wishes. You, who cunningly used the fears and weaknesses of your enemies against them. You, who conquered an impenetrable city from within," she said, her voice clam yet radiating great power. "Join the Changer of Ways and behold the gifts he bestows upon you. Master powerful magics, turn entire armies into lowly beasts, incinerate your enemies with twisting fire and eldritch lightning, warp and reshape the world around you to your whims. Learn to peer into the minds of others and read their thoughts like words in book. With but a thought, drive men insane; show enemies nothing but lies; topple kings from their thrones without a single weapon. Join the Changer of Ways and watch as the world becomes your plaything."

"Bah! Tzeentch is nothing but feeble coward!" the Khornate Azula growled. "There's no glory is his ways. The Sorcerer God does nothing but hide and plot. And those who serve him can find themselves little more than playthings to him, to throw away when he grows bored. Those who serve Khorne faithfully are rewarded, becoming immortal champions of the battlefield. What greater glory is there?"

"If you live that long," the Azula of Nurgle said, her contempt for the Khornate champion clear in her voice. "The path of Khorne is short and painful, ending with you falling on a bloodied field. Only Grandfather Nurgle can protect you from the inevitable rot that eats away at the world. Only he knows the secret of true immortality."

The Slaaneshi Azula snorted. "As little more than a corpse. Those who serve Maggot King are little more that bloated, fly covered, maggot ridden, unfeeling, walking corpse. Those who serve Slaanesh are rewarded with the most sublime and exquisite sensations and pleasures. It's far better to live a short existence filled pleasures than to live an unending life devoid of all feeling."

"Spoken like a true slave to excess," the Tzeentchian Azula commented. "Consumed by the need to constantly gratify one's self. Such a waste. The perfection Slaanesh offers is fleeting. Tzeentch offers the true power of Chaos. For change is the very essence of Chaos itself. What can the Prince of Excess offer compared to that?"

For a tense moment, the four images glared at each, looking ready to battle one another. But just as they looked like they were about to fight, they turned to Azula as one. "Choose now Azula!" they shouted together. "Choose your eternal patron and master!"

Azula took her time, studying each gate and the image of herself that stood before them. What each offered her was great and the means not just to her vengeance, but the means to conquer the entire world. But she could have one and only one patron. Only one would grant her great power and eventually, immortality. Azula turned to each and every one of the images. Each was eager to hear her answer. To choose their master as her patron. "I have made my decision," she finally said. "I choose…"

And at that moment, the world trembled as once more Chaos stood ready to consume it in the fires of war…

Half a world away, the Avatar, Aang, awoke from a truly horrible dream. A dream of blood and horror and death and war, lead by a terrible Champion, watched over by wicked, laughing Gods…

Little did he know just how real that dream was going become…

* * *

As I said, this was born of one of my crossover ideas between the two worlds, with Chaos aligned Azula leading a vast Chaos army against the three Nations. I think the biggest problem I have with making this into a full story is the fact that I cannot decide on which God Azula should choose. So I'm simply going to keep it a one-shot. Those I may do some other one-shots connected to it, with Azula, now having ascended into Daemonhood, and ruling the world, reshaped into twisted reflection of itself, one for each Chaos God.

As always, review!


	2. Rise of the Everchosen

Yo! It's been far, far too long since I posted anything. I blame it on work and the multitude of new ideas that have entered by mind. Regardless, I've decided to make this into a full story based off some of the response I've gotten. Now this won't be a fast updating story. As all of the chapters will be much, much longer than I normally write. So it will take longer to get things done.

I've actually got a number of Avatar/Warhammer Fantasy ideas besides this and I may do a bunch of them as oneshots. One that I will do is the polar opposite of this one, where Azula becomes a champion against Chaos, like Valten, the Chosen Champion of Sigmar and opposing warrior to the Everchosen of Chaos.

tormented123: Just so you know, you've disabled your private messaging feature. As long as it is, I won't be able to answer any questions you may have until I post a chapter.

Now that all of that is out of the way, on with the show.

**...**

Countless warriors from countless tribes, kingdoms, warbands and armies stood before the massive altar, waiting while their leaders were gathered around the shrine itself. Atop the altar stood alone figure, clad in dark armor and watching the skies. Dark, tremulous clouds filled the sky, arcs of lightning surging between them as roaring thunder filled the air.

Azula smirked, feeling the power and favor of the Gods following through her body. After over a year of brutal questing across the face the Western Lands and the Realm of Chaos itself, the day she had longed for had finally come. The day of her coronation. The day the world would tremble and quake at her name.

The day she was recognized by all as the Anointed, the Favored Child of Chaos, the Scourge of the World, the Herald of the Apocalypse, Chaos Incarnate, the Lord of the End Times.

The Everchosen of Chaos.

For a moment, Azula looked back into the past, back to the long road she had taken to this moment…

* * *

"I choose…all of you," Azula proclaimed.

The four Chaos-Blessed doppelgangers staggered back, surprised by her announcements. "What?" they said in unison.

"You heard me," Azula confidently replied. "All of you want the same thing, the fall of the weak Nations of the East. Why not stand as one until that glorious goal is accomplished?"

"You would seek the Path of the Everchosen?" they asked.

The former Princess nodded her head. "Yes. Make me your Everchosen and together we will usher in the End Times."

As one, the four images shook their heads. "No. If you truly wish to become our Everchosen then you must face more trials and collect the Six Treasures of Chaos to prove yourself."

"Then tell me where I may find them and I will become your Everchosen!" Azula demanded, clasping her fist.

"You have found the First Treasure already," the four answered. "Receive it now…the Mark of Chaos!"

Each of the four Azulas disappeared as the gates began to glow with crackling energy. Wild bolts of crimson, green, pink and blue surged out from each of the Gods' Gates, striking Azula as one. Immense raw power flowed into her body. Azula roared in both pain and triumph as the energy began to focus within her forehead. The skin on the center of her brow exploded.

And then as quickly as it began, the energy faded and Azula collapsed, panting for breath, blood dripping down her grinning face.

* * *

Morgar Felblade roared in rage and frustration as his sword sliced through the neck of one of her warriors. "Where is she? Where is the Eastling bitch?"

That's when he spotted him, the pathetic sorcerer of his hated enemy. The hunched over, wretch of a man was throwing crimson balls of fire at his men. With a roar, Morgar sprinted towards the spellcaster. But as he neared the man something happened...

The ground began to tremble, dark clouds filled the sky, blocking out the sky. All of the warriors stopped their fighting, looking for a sign as to what was happening.

"What is this?" Morgar demanded.

"She's made her choice…" Morax uttered, staring at the temple doors.

The giant Star of Chaos emblazoned on the door began to glow with a purple light. The sorcerer shook his head in disbelief. "It cannot be…"

By this time, every still living warrior present had stopped fighting, turning their attention to the massive doors. The ground trembled beneath their feet as the wind howled and wailed furiously. Slowly, the doors slid open, releasing a blinding purple light from within the temple. Those closest to the temple were forced to shield their eyes while those further away could only watch as a figure appeared within the light.

The figure marched forward, approaching the camp turned battlefield. Many of the warriors fell to their knees, prostrating themselves before the glorious individual, saying prayers to the Chaos Gods.

Even Morgar himself bowed, recognizing the figure as a divinely blessed being, Vulric and Morax kneeling alongside him.

Azula stopped, standing amid the dozens upon dozens of bowing warriors, a glowing purple eight-sided star carved into her brow.

The Mark of Chaos.

The Mark of the Everchosen of Chaos.

* * *

Azula stood at the bow of her ship, staring out at the approaching shoreline and the towering city-temple upon it; where the next Treasure of Chaos, the Armor of Morkar, the First Everchosen, lay.

It had been several weeks since Azula had received the blessing of all four Chaos Gods. Upon seeing the Mark, Morgar and his warband submitted to her, adding their strength to her own. After choosing two dozen of her warriors, she sent Vulric and Morgar out to spread the word that a new Everchosen had emerged while she took Morax and the warriors she had selected to the nearby coast, stealing a ship from the Slavers of Gharhar and taking it far north. Over the course of their journey, they came across other ships of seafaring warriors. Some willing joined them; others had to be convinced by sword.

Now they were finally reaching their goal, a forgotten island and its temple-city. The Gods had shown her this ancient place and how it was now home to a race of savage half-human beasts. But deep beneath the city, within its vast catacombs, was the resting place of Morkar the First Everchosen whom had been slain many millennia ago by the Avatar, along with his legendary armor.

The temple-city was a massive stone platform, upon which a large pyramid stood, surrounded by smaller stone structures. Once, this had been a vast metropolis from before the coming of the Chaos Gods. Since then it had been conquered and reconquered dozens of times over numerous warlords and their armies, corrupting and defiling the place with countless totems and icons as well as runes and sigils craved into the walls. There were even parts of the stonework that had been mutated by the power of Chaos, replacing stone with living flesh with vile things imprisoned within the flesh-stone, trying to grab anyone or anything nearby.

"Warriors of the Gods! To battle and glory!" she roared, thrusting her daemon weapon into the air.

The vessel slammed into the shore, beaching itself upon the dark sands along with the other vessels. Her warriors roared as they leapt from their ships, charging towards the temple-city and the hordes of savage man-beasts that were already rushing for the shore and the beached ships, both eager for battle and bloodshed.

At the front of the running warriors was Azula, Gorrumalxa raised above her head, letting out a fearsome roar of her own.

* * *

For six days and nights, Azula and her warriors battled the man-beasts. Despite being horribly outnumbered by the mutants, the warriors of Chaos had won, exterminating them all. Azula herself had slain the huge bull-headed leader of the city's inhabitants, slicing its head from its body; its skull now adorning her personal standard.

With the battle over, Azula wandered through the vast catacombs underneath the forgotten city as her warriors reveled in their victory and made offerings to the Gods. A grin spread across Azula's lips. The warriors that she had gathered to her side were strong. Sure, there had been those that had fallen against the man-beasts, but there were countless other eager warriors seeking to earn glory for themselves and the Gods out there.

One day, all of them would be following her banner into glorious battle against her most hated of enemies.

"We have found the tomb, my lord," Morax rasped, standing before a set of ancient stone doors.

Numerous runes and sigils were carved into the stone. They were unlike anything Azula had ever seen. Incredibly old, yet radiating tremendous power. And unlike the rest of the forgotten city, it hadn't been defiled in the slightest by those that had ruled the city over the countless millennia.

A great and terrible power was protecting it from all but the worthy.

"Can you open it?" Azula inquired as she studied the doors.

Morax placed a hand on the door, only to recoil and pull his hand back. The flesh of his palm had been burnt by the magics shielding the door. "No," he said, shaking his head. The sorcerer turned to her. "But I believe that you can, my lord."

Without saying a word, Azula slammed her right palm on the door. Dark purple energy surged from her hand, spreading across the door and lighting up the runes. Slowly the tomb doors slid open, revealing a dark chamber. As soon as Azula's foot touched the chamber floor, torches along the stone walls ignited. Before her stood a large altar, upon which laid a skeletal body clad in dark armor with a sword and shield lying on its breast. On the side of the altar was the Star of Chaos, surrounded by the four Icons of the Gods.

There could be no doubt about it. This was the tomb of Morkar.

Azula reached out the fallen Everchosen's remains. The armor was magnificent. Heavy obsidian plates trimmed with gold, inscribed with countless runes and sigils of Chaos and power. But this armor had been forged not by a mortal blacksmith with steel or iron; it had been forged within the foundries and forges of Zharr-Naggrund, by the hands of the greatest Master Daemonsmiths. The metal had been created from rare ores found only beneath the Mountains of Mourn, the blood from a Greater Daemon of each God, and the raw energies of Chaos made into solid matter. Once the metal had been created, countless ancient spells were cast to bless it and further strength it. This armor was as hard as diamond but as light as cloth.

The perfect armor for an Everchosen.

But as Azula's fingertips brushed against its plates, a spark of energy leapt into the armor. Morkar's jaw dropped, letting out a rasping groan. Slowly, the skull turned to her, the bones creaking loudly, its empty sockets staring at her.

Azula quickly stepped back as the armored skeleton continued to move. Its hands rose up, slow and jerky at first but quickly picking up speed as it reached for its shield and sword before starting to sit up.

"And here I thought this was going to be a simple task," Azula commented as the skeletal remains howled at her.

The fallen Everchosen lunged at her, swinging its sword at her. Azula blocked the blade with her own, sparks erupting from where they met. But Morkar didn't let up, swinging his formidable, Chaos-blessed weapon wildly and furiously. "Die wretched bitch!" Morkar screamed his voice filled with hatred.

It was all Azula could do to avoid and block his attacks. It was said that Morkar had been a fearsome warrior, capable of wiping out entire armies with just his sword and shield. And seemed even death had not diminished his formidable abilities.

But Azula had carefully studied the history of her predecessors. Morkar had been slain by Agni, the first Fire Lord and the first man to bend Fire to his will. She knew his weakness.

Reaching into a small bag on her belt, Azula pulled out her old hairpiece, the last memento of her former life. But it was also in the shape of the Fire Nation's symbol, of Agni's personal icon.

She held up the hairpiece, revealing it to Morkar. The dead champion froze; the glowing sockets that were his eyes utterly focused on it. "AGNI!" he roared the hatred and fury in his voice growing to new heights.

But it was already too late. Azula took the momentary pause to strike back, thrusting her sword into Morkar's mouth as he roared, the tip of Gorrumalxa erupting out of the back of his skull. The magic binding Morkar's soul to his remains died, its glowing sockets fading mere moments before its armored body collapsed on the ground.

Azula grinned in triumph. The famed Armor of Morkar was hers…

* * *

Within the ruined temple-city, the warriors of Chaos celebrated their victory, gathering around several campfires, drinking ale from their ships and eating the fresh meat they had acquired, all the while telling stories of past deeds. "I tore off the beast's horn and rammed it down its throat!" Alaric Shadowhammer proclaimed, slamming his fist into his palm for emphasis. "That was a truly glorious battle. Not like this little skirmish with those puny freaks."

"But brother, we are fighting alongside the Everchosen," one of his fellow warriors argued. "The eyes of the Gods are upon her and upon we who fight with her."

Alaric shook his head. "Bah! So she says. Why would the Gods choose a feeble little girl from the East to be their Everchosen? They wouldn't! They would only choose the strong!"

"I would watch what you say, Alaric Shadowhammer," Morax commented as he approached the fire. "She is far, far stronger than she appears. While the people of the East are for the most part soft and weak, she was raised to be strong. From an early age she was instructed within the art of war, taught numerous strategies, and trained to be a warrior and leader. She is as close as one of them can get to being one of us."

Alaric scowled at him. "Not only that, she has been chosen by the Gods themselves. Disrespecting her is the same as disrespecting the Gods," the sorcerer continued. "If you are smart, you will show her the proper respect."

"No! She's nothing but an Eastling brat with a bit of power. Nothing more," the warrior shot back. "She deserves no respect."

"I'm sorry to hear that," a voice said as a heavy metal footstep landed behind the group.

Everyone turned to the voice. It was Azula, clad in formfitting obsidian armor. "You've found the Armor of Morkar," Morax said, not a trace of surprise in his voice.

"What? Impossible!" Alaric exclaimed. "Morkar was a giant of a man. It's impossible for his legendary armor to fit a tiny thing like you!"

Azula laughed at him, angering him further. "Such a small mind," she commented. "Did it not occur to you that the Master Daemonsmiths that forged this armor would have ensured that it would fit anyone who possessed it?"

The warrior snarled, rising to his feet as grabbed his warhammer. "Tell me girl, if I slay you, will the Gods make me the Everchosen?" he shouted before attacking her.

The head of his warhammer slammed into Azula's side, but something unexpected happened. The weapon's head shattered like a block of ice while the force of the weapon had no effect on her. Azula smirked a second before her armored fist slammed into Alaric's face, shattering his nose. The large warrior staggered back, a hand clutching his bloody nose. But Azula didn't stop there. She rammed her arm into the man's unarmored abdomen, tearing through organs before she reached her target, the man's spine. Alaric gurgled out blood as Azula's fingers wrapped around the bone. With a single strong pull, the former Princess tore out the man's spine through his abdomen. Alaric's torso collapsed in on itself as he fell to the group, already dead.

With a triumphant roar, Azula thrust the spine into the air. The other warriors quickly joined in. Any doubts, any dissention among Azula's warriors about her claim to the title of Everchosen now silenced.

* * *

Weeks had passed since that day. More battles and followers had come since then. New trophies adorned her personal standard and armor, standing alongside the skull of the man-beast leader and the belt she created from Alaric's spine.

Now they were traveling north and to the west along the coast, heading for the Cliff of Beasts. Through mediation and visions, the Gods had shown her the next treasure, the Eye of Sheerian, an ancient gem that was able to peer into the endless, wild currents of the future. It had once belonged to the third Everchosen, Asavar Kul, though he did not create it. The Eye had existed long before him. After Kul was slain nearly a thousand years ago, the Eye had passed onto champion after champion before falling into the talons of Flamefang, a mighty Chaos Dragon. The beast's lair was at the base of the vast cliff face. But not only that, it was the most vicious creature within the cliff, ensuring that the other monstrous predators living in the region would stay far from the cave.

At least for awhile anyway.

"There it is," Azula said as the blood coating Gorrumalxa was consumed by the daemon.

All around her, Azula's warriors finished off the last of the trolls. "Burn the bodies," she ordered, not wanting to take a chance with the accursed beasts and ability to come back from nearly anything. "I will enter the cave alone."

None of them questioned her orders as she marched into the cave, noxious, sulfurous fumes pouring out from it. The beast was in its lair. Of that, she had no doubt.

The Chaos Dragons were a twisted breed born from the now extinct Dragons. During the First War of Chaos, when the dragons had been plentiful, they were among the most dreaded of the mortal soldiers that fought against the Daemon Legions. However, in one battle, the greatest of their kind did battle with a powerful Lord of Change. The great dragon slew the daemon, reducing it to a cloud of ash. However, that was what the daemon wanted. It possessed the mighty beast corrupting it into a truly fitting creature of Chaos. After that, it forced itself on female dragons, giving rise to the race of Chaos Dragons.

The Chaos Dragons were wild, terrible monsters, attacking anything and anyone they came across. Though in times of great wars, Chaos Dragons would be drawn to the battles, reveling in the carnage and in rare cases, the mightiest of Champions would bend a beast to their will and use as a living engine of destruction.

Azula stopped, reaching the large chamber within the cave. Lying within the center of the cavern, atop a vast mound of treasures slept Flamefang. The dragon was a monstrous three headed behemoth. Its scales were a blood red and seemed to twitch and pulse like there were a thousand insects crawling just beneath them. There were far more horns and spikes emerging from its body than what its eastern cousins had.

"Wake up!" Azula shouted at it, swinging her blade down at its center head.

The daemonweapon sliced through the right side of the dragon's head, destroying its eye while leaving a shallow cut on its scales. Flamefang instantly woke up, roaring in pain and fury. But Azula did not press her attack. Instead, she just extended her arms out. "Come on!" she screamed at it. "Come on you ugly, overgrown lizard! Show me what you've got!"

The three maws of the dragon opened, spewing out noxious green flames that could burn and corrode at the same time. The fires engulfed Azula, scorching the ground she stood on. However, when fires died, Azula stood there completely unphased and unharmed. "I'm waiting!" she taunted.

Flamefang's three head angrily roared at her for a moment before the center head lunged at her, swallowing Azula whole. In an instant, she was flipped head over heels and slid down its throat, into its stomach.

But Azula was no fool. Even with Gorrumalxa, dragon hides were notoriously strong and that wasn't including the fact that many of the Chaos Dragons were blessed with various mutations, making them even more dangerous. Few weapons could harm dragons, fewer could kill them.

That's why Azula needed to be clever. With the Armor of Morkar, she was safe from its fiery breath, teeth, claws and stomach acid. And ultimately providing her with the means to attack Flamefang's weakest spot; its insides.

No matter how strong the shell is, the insides are always the weakest. Ba Sing Se had taught her that well.

Letting out a warcry, she sliced through the wall of its stomach. Flamefang howled in agony, its body thrashing wildly. Azula continued to hack and slash, cutting through muscle and organs as she pulled herself through its body. She stabbed her sword through the throat of the middle head before twisting her weapon around, cutting through its neck. The head fell off the thrashing dragon, followed moments later by Azula herself. Flamefang's remaining head let out a pain-stricken wail before it collapsed in a heap.

Azula, covered entirely in gore, stood triumphant over the beast.

But she wasn't done yet. There was still the Eye she needed to collect.

Walking around the large beast's body, she reached its side. Azula grabbed Flamefang and with all of her Chaos-blessed strength, she slowly started to push the dragon onto its other side, revealing its belly and the horde of treasures underneath it.

There were countless treasures and relics lying beneath Flamefang's body, but they were of no interest to her. She'd let her warriors ransack the cave once she had the Eye.

And there, lying among a vast gathering of jewels and crystals embedded within its chest, was a fist-size golden perfect crystal orb; the Eye of Sheerian. Azula's fingers wrapped around it and with a tug, she tore it from the corpse.

The Eye was hers…

At that moment, she thrust Gorrumalxa and the Eye into the air, roaring in triumph.

"…_I'll see you dead for this Azula! For my sister, my father and all the others that you've consumed for your monstrous Gods! I don't care whether it's with an army at my back or just by myself! I don't care if I have to fight a thousand battles to reach you! I WILL KILL YOU…"_

"…_But none are as terrible as the Everchosen of Chaos. The power of an Everchosen is as great as a fully realized Avatar. But their power is the antis of your power, the antis of the natural order of the world…"_

"…_I think I shall leave you here, among the ashes of everything you once held dear. I want you to live for all eternity, to see my rise to power and end of the world, and to always know that it was you above all the others that made into what I am…"_

"…_I am Vardek Crom, Herald to my master. Hear what I have to say! Tremble and despair Kings and Lords of the East, for doom has come to your lands…"_

"…_ha ha he heh… I understand now Aang. We've been fools Aang, all of us. Chaos is eternal, Chaos is life! We shouldn't fight against it. We must embrace it with open arms! You Aang… You could become even greater than her…"_

"…_BEAR WITNESS TO MY ASCENSION MORTALS…"_

Azula dropped her arms, shaking her head, dispelling the fragmented visions of future the Eye was showing her. For now, she couldn't control prophetic powers of the stone. One day she would, but not now…

* * *

"Dorghar! You are mine!" Azula proclaimed, vaulting atop the daemonic steed.

The beast let out a furious, howling neigh as it started to buck. But the champion held onto it with all her might. Suddenly, its form changed, becoming pure fire in its former shape. Still Azula held on. "I have come too far to be bested by you!" she shouted.

While it was true for all of the tasks she had conquered, this one had been far tougher than those before it. Dorghar, the Steed of the Apocalypse had not been within the Lands of the Chaos Men but rather in the Realm of Chaos.

She had led her band of warriors to the ragged edge of where the worlds met. It was there that Azula had left them as she journeyed deeper into the twisting, impossible land. Days of marching turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and months turned into years.

But Azula did not fear nor age. For the laws that governed their world had no hold over the Realm of Chaos. One could spend an eternity within this world only to find that minutes had passed in the mortal world. Or one could even leave the Realm of Chaos years before they had even been born.

Such was the fickle nature of Chaos.

Of course, it wasn't just time that was meaningless here. Every other law of nature did not exist here either. In fact, the very nature of this world gave rise to impossible, perverted mockeries of her world. A vast stone fortress floated across the sky, trees made of living flesh and twitching tentacles, unending waterfalls of blood that flowed upwards, were just among a small handful of the insanities that Azula had witness in her travels. Lesser individuals would have snapped from such sights but not her, she was stronger than that.

Dorghar was currently the prized possession of a Daemon Lord, Agrammon. The mighty daemon was a slaver whom loved to twist and warp his captives into grotesque creatures within his vast fortress.

Agrammon's fortress within the Realm of Chaos was a mighty stronghold, made of black stone and mortar of blood. But this was not a simple stone castle. Upon the walls were great eyes, their blinking lids were the very walls themselves, always watching for anyone or anything that sought to attack his lair. Atop the ramparts of the fortress were Agrammon's daemons standing guard over their master's domain, ready and eager to descend on upon any attackers.

A frontal assault would be suicidal for all by the largest, mightiest of armies. And as strong as Azula's band of battle-hardened veterans were, they would be torn to pieces by the legions of daemons. Once again, she needed cunning to take what was rightfully hers.

It took her what could have been days, slowly creeping towards the fortress without being detected by the eyes or the daemons. Eventually, she snuck through the outer gate in one of the slave carts being brought to their new master. After that, she managed to get into Agrammon's stable by clinging onto the hairy underbelly of one of his grotesque beasts.

Once inside, it wasn't hard to find Dorghar's private pen. And what a beauty it was. At first glance, Dorghar was a horse, one of the strange native beasts of the humans of the West had domesticated. But this was no mere horse. Where it came from, Azula could not say. It could have been descended from a breed of horses that had heavily exposed to the raw energies of Chaos and changed by it. Or perhaps like the Chaos Dragons, a might horse was possessed by a daemon and in turn bred with other horses, giving rise to daemonic breed of horses.

Its skin was midnight blue with grey spikes running down its legs. Dorghar's mane and tail were whitish-grey, standing out amid the dark flesh. The beast's eyes glowed red as it snorted out dark noxious smoke.

Now, all Azula had left was to break the daemonic steed to her will, to make it her mount.

The hardest of all her tasks in acquiring the Steed of the Apocalypse.

The fiery beast kicked and thrashed, trying to force her off. But Azula clung to Dorghar with everything she had, her armor protecting her from the worst of the fire and heat. Suddenly, its form changed again. Its skin became a thick shell with jagged spikes erupting out of it. As with the fire, her armor protected her from edges of the spikes. However, it wasn't impaling her that Dorghar wanted. The slowly erupting spikes were beginning to push her off.

Azula let out a defiant roar, overshadowing Dorghar's own, her arms and legs tightening around it. The pressure of the spikes against her armored body increased, but she refused to let go. It wasn't going to end until something snapped. In this case, it was the spikes. They cracked and splintered under the strain. The daemonic beast changed back into its normal form, picking up its speed. As her roar ended, she even bit down on the back of its neck, trying to hold on it as much as she could.

But Dorghar wasn't lagging either. It transformed again and again, trying to catch Azula off guard and throw her off. Both had wills of iron and neither would back down to the other.

Though in the end, one would break and one would stand victorious…

* * *

Kordel Shorgaar, Bearer of the Everchosen's Banner, stood silently on the edge of the camp. Only a few days had passed since the Blessed One had marched deeper into the Realm of the Gods. Yet to the young, devoted warrior, it was an eternity.

Months earlier, Kordel's tribe had been marauding across the lands of the Kurgan Tribes when they came face to face with Azula and mighty warriors. At the foot of Karak Dum, they clashed. While his tribe may have outnumbered her warband, their skill and might was too great for them to have stood a real chance.

The armored warriors slaughtered them all until only he was left. But even then he refused to submit to his fate, lashing out at the Everchosen herself. They battled for hours but as strong as he was, he was no match for the Everchosen. In the end, he was beaten, his body racked with wounds and his strength spent. But even then, he refused to accept his fate, defiantly glaring at her as he waited for the killing blow.

It did not come…

Azula had seen his formidable warrior spirit and favor of the Gods upon him. She spared Kordel, bringing him into her warband, into the glorious service of the Everchosen and the Gods. Ever since then he had fought at her side with unwavering devotion. After months, Azula had seen fit to make him the bearer of her personal standard after his predecessor had fallen in battle. Upon that day Kordel had vowed to her and the Gods that he would serve at her side until the End Times came and beyond, or until he fell in battle.

As he stood on his silent vigil, the camp behind him was abuzz with activity. A small dueling circle had formed within the camp, allowing some of the warriors to hone their skill while others placed wagers on them. Others sat at fire pits, drinking and telling stories. Save for Morax whom sat at a small fire at the center of the camp, deep in a trance. Undoubtedly, he was communing with the mighty beings of the Realm of Chaos.

Suddenly the sorcerer's head pulled back, letting out a loud gasping sound. Somehow, it drew everyone's attention. "She…returns…" he uttered dryly.

The faint sound of drums filled the air. But they quickly grew louder and louder, echoing through the valley they had set up their camp. Soon the thundering sound changed into something just as recognizable, the sound of hooves galloping on stone and rock.

A lone rider was approaching the camp.

Azula, their glorious leader raced into the heart of the camp, riding atop the Steed of the Apocalypse, Dorghar. She pulled her daemonweapon into the air, letting out a triumphant cheer that was quickly joined by every warrior in the camp.

* * *

"RAAAAAGH!" an armored warrior roared as his axe bit into the throat another warrior. The man gurgled as he collapsed on the ground. The warrior stepped over the body. "I am Vardek Crom! Chieftain of the Kul! None of you are a match for me!"

All around him, on the lower cliffs and ridges of the Chimera Plateau, numerous Chaos Champions dueling one another, seeking to further prove their worth to the Gods.

So far, none Crom's opponents had come close to defeating him. It was growing tiresome to the powerful champion. How could he prove his worth without opponents that could challenge him? How could he make such meager offerings to the Gods?

"Why don't you test yourself against me?" a female voice asked as a smaller hooded warrior approached.

"A woman?" Crom exclaimed. "Bah! Fine! Prepare to die!"

Sword and axe met daemonblade, creating a thundering boom. Within seconds the boom was followed by echoing clangs as their weapons clashed again and again. Yet, neither warrior was able to hit the other; something that only served to annoy the master warrior even further. Crom drove his knee into the armored chest of his opponent, driving her back. "Not bad," she commented. "For a novice."

The warrior let out a furious roar, raising his sword and axe as he lunged at her. But with unparalleled speed she sidestepped Crom, swinging her own sword at him. Crom barely managed to bring his own sword up, blocking the attack before using his superior strength to push the female back. As she staggered back, Crom's axe descended on her head. But once again she was too fast for him, pivoting on her foot to avoid the attack before slamming her shoulder into him with surprising force. To his shock, Crom was pushed back, his axe thrown from his hand.

But as he stumbled, Crom's free hand reached out and grabbed the edge of his opponent's hood, tearing it off.

The armored champion froze as he beheld the face of champion he was dueling and the Mark upon her brow.

It was the glowing Mark of Chaos…

Immediately, Crom fell to his knees in prostration. The champion he had been fighting was the Everchosen, the greatest of all the mortal champions of the Gods.

However, Crom was not the only one. As they had battle, the other dueling champions had stopped, strangely compelled to watch their fight. And upon the revelation of the Everchosen, they all bowed as well.

"Blessed One, I apologize for my imprudence," Crom humbly said, unable to gaze upon her. "Had I known it was you, I never would have challenged to you."

"That would have defeated the purpose of our duel," Azula replied. "I have heard of you Vardek Crom. You who has conquered the mighty City of Karond Kar. You who fought in the Battle of 10,000 Blades. You who spent a year within the vast network of caverns below the World's Edge Mountains, battling against the unending hordes of the rat-men whom dwell there. You who have subjugated the Dolgans, the Tokmars, the Yusaks, the Kvelligs and dozens of other tribes. Yes… I have heard of you, Crom the Conqueror."

Crom felt insurmountable pride swell within his breast as the Great One listed off but a small fraction of the accomplishments he had achieved in his long lifetime. "My Lord, I offer you all that I have, my worldly possessions, my rank as Chieftain of the Kul, my people, just for the chance to fight by your side until the day I die."

For a moment, Azula started at him before responding. Taking her sword, she tapped Crom on right shoulder then his left. "Rise, Crom of the Kul," she said, pulling the weapon back. "Rise Vardek Crom, Herald of the Everchosen."

* * *

"My Lord, we're approaching the dens of the Chimeras," Crom said as they climbed further up the cliffs of the plateau.

"How many are there?" Azula asked as more of her warriors reached the snowy cliff they stood on.

"An army's worth," her Herald replied.

Azula snickered. "Then it's good that we have brought an army of our own," she said as below them hundreds upon hundreds of armored champions of Chaos were scaling up the cliff face.

All eager for battle in the name of the Gods and their Favored Champion.

Nor were they the only ones.

Approaching growls filled the air, signaling the arrival of the vicious beasts the plateau was named for. They were ugly creatures with bodies and heads like that of lion, but with bat-like wings on their backs and barbed scorpion tails.

And there were already dozens and dozens of the large beasts slowly moving towards them…

Azula drew Gorrumalxa while those warriors around her drew their weapons. "These beasts stand before me and the task the Gods have set for me!" she called out. "Slay them all in the name of the Gods!"

"For the Dark Gods!" her warriors yelled out, charging towards the chimera that roared back and began to sprint towards their prey as well.

* * *

Azula grinned as she pulled herself onto the very top of the plateau, where the Slayer of Kings was. Close behind her were three of her warriors, Crom, Kordel and Prince Ograx. The rest were further below, still battling the chimera.

Before them was a small mountain. It was odd as a plateau ends in a flat surface. There shouldn't be a mountain here, yet there was. It didn't make sense.

At that moment, as though to answer her question, the mountain shifted. This sent a tremor through the whole plateau while the stone and rock moved, changing shape into the outline of a sleeping figure.

Azula's eyes widened in shock as the realization of what this 'mountain' truly was entered her mind.

The figure before her was half buried in loose stone and rock, many of which were far, far larger than her. The upper half of it looked human for the most part. The torso of man with a pair matching arms covered a combination of skin and dark scales. Its head was that of a man but with unusually angular features, with its lower face almost forming into a snout. The dark hair on the head was long and scraggly, long horns erupting out from within it. Its long body was reptilian, with four long, clawed legs and a tail stretching out over a side of the plateau. But what truly caught Azula's eyes was the armor plate in the center of its chest. It bore black Star of Chaos that pulsed with an unnatural energy.

It was Krakanrok the Black, the father of the Dragon Ogre race! No mortal warrior, not even her, could face this monstrous creature and survive.

Fortunately, he was still slumbering. As long as they didn't wake him, they would be fine.

And that's when she saw it, the Slayer of Kings, lying half beneath one of its front legs. It was finally within her grasp. All that she had to do was remove from beneath the slumbering behemoth.

Azula turned towards her companions. "Ograx, lift that leg up," she ordered.

The giant of a man nodded before moving towards the limb. With a loud grunt, he heaved the scaled paw up, straining to keep it raised. Azula quickly picked up the sword, holding before her in awe.

The Slayer of Kings was ancient, legendary daemonweapon. The Everchosen, Vangel had trapped the Greater Daemon U'zuhl within the blade eons ago. It was the only daemonweapon to contain a greater daemon; all others had merely lesser daemons bound within their blades. For a mortal to have achieved such a feat spoke highly of the man and his abilities.

However, the countless years of imprisonment and lying unused, unable to slate its thirst for blood and battle and souls had left it insane.

At that instant, U'zuhl let out a loud piercing howl. The sleeping Krakanrok began to stir, sending tremors throughout the entire plateau. Slowly, the massive Dragon Ogre's eyes started to open.

Immediately, Azula rammed the Slayer into Ograx's chest. U'xuhl stopped screaming, lapping up the royal blood of the Hung Prince. As the howling ended, the half-awake Krakanrok drifted back to sleep.

"Glory…to the Everchosen…" Ograx uttered before he collapsed pinned under Krakanrok's paw.

Azula turned from the sleeping behemoth and the dead prince, holding the bloody Slayer of Kings.

Five Treasures of Chaos were in possession. Only one remained.

* * *

"You know why I am here," Azula said to the shadowy shape before her.

For nearly five years, she had scoured the Lands of Chaos for the Final Treasure, the Crown of Domination. And for nearly five years, she had found no trace of it. There was only one being that could know where it was, but Azula had been loathed to approach him.

The figure made of shadows that stood before her snickered. "_**So the great Everchosen needs my help in completing her labors,**_" it mocked. "_**Perhaps the Gods should have chosen someone more suitable than feeble, half-mad wretch from the East.**_"

The being before her was Be'lakor, the first Daemon Prince. The first moral to have ever ascended beyond his mortal form into daemonhood. The first to receive the greatest of gifts from the Gods. However, long ago he had fallen out of favor with the Chaos Gods and been punished by them. Be'lakor was cursed to remain in his current powerless shadowy form until an Everchosen arose. Then his form would be restored, only to have to perform the Coronation of the Everchosen first.

He was a truly jealous and spiteful creature. One that Azula could only trust marginally at best.

"_**Oh? No comment? No cunning remark? No enraging insult? What does it matter anyway? You will fail in the end just as your three predecessors did and as the countless ones that wanted to be but couldn't, did before you. No mortal can bring about the End Times. You will just fail and die-RAAAAAAGH!**_"

The Daemon Prince howled as the Slayer of Kings slashed across its form. "Silence wretch. You had your chance and failed long ago. It is _my _destiny to bring about the End Times! To bring this world entirely into Chaos! And I will see it happen or burn this pathetic world to ashes!" Aulza proclaimed, her left hand clenched in a fist before her. "Do you know why I will be the one to do it?"

The Daemon Prince said nothing, glaring at her in anger.

"Because all I have left is hatred for this damned world," she continued. "As a child, my mother hated me. I was a monster in her eyes. So I gave all my devotion to my father who appreciated my abilities. But at our moment of triumph, he cast me aside like a tool that has lost its usefulness. I was nothing but a tool to him. And those that were the closest to me betrayed me for a traitor. The Crown that was rightfully given to me was stolen from me. I served my people faithfully and in the end, they had the gall to proclaim me a criminal. I have _nothing _else but my hate! It is that which has sustained these long years and it is that which I will use to bring about the Apocalypse!"

Azula pointed the tip of her weapon at the shadow's chest. "Either tell me where the Crown is or suffer my wrath!"

* * *

Azula grinned in satisfaction as she pushed open the final gate. Be'lakor had told her that the Crown had been hidden within the Temple of the First Altar, where the first mortal champion of Chaos bowed to the Gods for power. He also explained how the temple had been hidden by ancient magicks and how each God would give her one final test to prove her worth.

The Daemon Prince led her and her mighty army to the entrance of the temple, fighting their way through countless beasts and monsters. He showed her to a cliff where the temple doors were, concealed by spells. With a swing of her daemonswords, Azula shattered the doors and the spells.

True to his words, each of the Gods threw a challenging test before her. First, while battling the daemons of the Plague God, her body was wracked with a hundred of the most agonizing of diseases. But in the end, she overcame Nurgle's challenge by sheer force of will; ignoring the pain as she slew the daemons.

After that, she found herself at the mouth of a vast multi-dimensional labyrinth of crystal. A minuscule fraction of Tzeentch's twisting domain within the Realm of Chaos. All it would take is a single misstep and she would have been trapped her forever within the endless maze. She blindfolded herself and marched into the maze without hesitation, navigating it with instinct alone.

The third test was from the Dark Prince of Pleasure. Long corridors filled with possible temptation one could think of were placed in her path. Lesser men and women would have fallen to them, but not her. Azula didn't falter in the slightest, even after _that_ was offered to her. She simply struck down the phantom without stopping as continued towards the Altar.

All she had left was the challenge of Khorne.

After stepping through the gate, Azula found herself standing before a long narrow causeway surrounded by roaring hellfire. She took a step onto the rock bridge and let out a low hiss. Her armor seemed to be unable to protect her from the fire. But it was of no consequence. She continued down the causeway, the fires burning at her body.

After a few steps, there was a loud roar followed by a massive Bloodthirster of Khorne. The Greater Daemon roared, swinging its axe down upon her. Azula pulled up U'zuhl and Gorrumalxa, shielding herself from the mighty blow. "_**Blood of the Blood God!**_" it yelled, swinging the weapon again.

This time Azula swung her swords, slicing through its axe shaft. The massive axe head fell off, crashing into the wall behind her. The daemon roared in anger, throwing the shaft at her. Azula leaped into the air, the spinning shaft flying below her. With surprising grace, she effortlessly landed her armored body on the narrow bridge.

The Bloodthirster slammed its fist in her chest. Azula was sent flying back into the closed gate, both of her swords falling from her grasp. As she climbed to her feet, the daemon cracked its barbed whip at her. She threw her arms, catching the end of it.

With another roar, the daemon pulled its whip back. But Azula held on, preventing it from coiling it up again. Suddenly, Azula flicked her left wrist and a knife flew out. It stabbed into the daemon's right eye. The Bloodthirster howled in pain, clutching its damaged eye, letting go of the whip in the process.

With the large whip in her hands, Azula sprinted towards the daemon. She jumped onto its body, climbing upwards as the daemon started to thrash. When she reached its shoulders, Azula quickly wrapped the barbed length of the whip around the daemon's neck, pulling it tight. Its razor sharp points dug into its neck, blood spilling out as she strangled it. The daemon fought and thrashed, letting out gurgling roars as it tried to throw her off.

But in the end, it collapsed to its knees. Its neck was little more than a ragged mess of blood and torn flesh. With a final twist of the whip, the Bloodthirster's head flew off. As the head fell into the fires, they died out while her burns healed themselves, leaving no trace of them.

Moments later, her weapons reclaimed, set foot in chamber of the First Altar. The altar was a crudely cut block of jet black stone that shone like polished metal. Upon it were five symbols. The golden Star of Chaos sat at the center. On its left were the crimson rune of Khorne and the green symbol of Nurgle. On its right were the pink icon of Slaanesh and the blue emblem of Tzeentch.

And there, sitting on the altar was her prize; the Crown of Domination.

Azula began to laugh as she lifted the ancient battle-helm up. At long last, all Six Treasures of Chaos were hers. At long last, she was the Everchosen…

* * *

The smirk didn't leave Azula's face as stood atop the altar. The long road had finally come to its end. Upon her brow rested the Mark of Chaos. Her body was covered in the Armor of Morkar. Hanging from a chain around her neck was the Eye of Sheerian. At her side was her steed, Dorghar. Resting in sheaths on her waist were the Slayer of Kings and Gorrumalxa. And finally, she held the Crown of Domination in her hands.

At that moment, there was a loud booming crack of thunder silencing everything else. Azula looked upwards, quickly joined by all the others present. A portion of the dark clouds parted, revealing Be'lakor in all of his daemonic glory. The winged Scion of the Gods flew down to the altar. He stared at Azula with a look of utter hatred and contempt, which only caused her smirk to widen. She offered the Crown to him. Be'lakor bowed his immense frame, taking it before pulling the Eye of Sheerian from her neck, tearing it off the chain. In one hand, he held the Crown, the Eye in the other. The former mortal placed the Eye on the Crown's forehead and then with a pulse of eldritch energy, fused it in place.

Bowing even lower, Be'lakor lowered the now complete Crown of Domination onto Azula's head.

Dozens of bolts of lightning struck around her as a booming cheer went up. Horns were blown, drums were beat, boots were stomped on the ground, and fists stuck shields as thousands chanted her name.

For a brief while, Azula silently basked in the glory of the moment before she raised her arms, silencing the vast crowd. "Warriors of the Gods hear me!" she called out, flickering fires resting within the eye-holes of the Crown. "For countless centuries, we have battled and fought amongst ourselves, forgetting about our true enemy! The weak Nations of the East!"

Azula paused as cheers filled the air again.

"For too long we have been divided! Fighting against each other! No longer! Not as long as they live!" she continued. "That is why the Gods have chosen me to be their Everchosen! To be the one to unite all the true followers of the Gods and to lead you all into battle and glory!"

The warriors cheered even louder at her words. Azula thrust a hand upwards at the parting clouds. The full moon hung in the night air. "Behold! The sign of their favor!"

Everyone was deathly silent as something began to creep out from behind the silver orb...

* * *

Halfway around the world, the people of the Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe and Fire Nation woke from their slumber, horrifying dread creeping into their souls. They found themselves drawn up to the sky, to full moon hanging above them. All of them watched as something slowly crept out from behind it. Within minutes, a second full moon appeared alongside the first. But this one was not like the silver orb that they were use to. This one was baleful green that seemed to leer at them like a giant eye.

Aang could only stare at the new moon in the night sky, Katara, his wife clinging to his side. The nightmare he had moments before this happened was etched into his mind, filling him with a terrible feeling that he had felt only once before. Years ago, when he had a nightmare about a champion bowing before four terrible Gods.

This nightmare had same champion, though like before he could not see who, surrounded by thousands of savage, fearsome warriors in a dark parody of a royal coronation. But this champion was not crowned by a sage or high priest but by a horrible winged monster.

Nor were the warriors the only ones watching the coronation. The horrible Gods were watching as well, along with legions of living horrors and nightmares.

Somehow, deep down, Aang knew they were coming.

…And it truly and utterly terrified him.

* * *

"Even now those weaklings in the East can only stare and tremble as Morrslieb blesses the sky once more! But they have no idea of what is to come!" Azula announced. "For this is far more than the day that the Chaos Moon returns! This is the day that their every nightmare becomes real! This the day the End Times begin!"

"This is the day Chaos returns!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. "For the Chaos Gods!"

"FOR THE CHAOS GODS!" the thousands of warriors roared.

"For victory!"

"FOR VICTORY!"

"For the End Times and the Age of Chaos!

"FOR THE END TIMES AND THE AGE OF CHAOS!"

* * *

Suddenly, Aang fell to his knees, his head spinning. In distance, he could hear Katara calling his name and their newborn son crying. But none of that matter compared to what he just witnessed and what he could feel was coming.

"Aang! Aang! What is it? What's happening?" a worried Katara asked, shaking him out of his trance.

"I could see it..." he uttered, unable to look her in the eye. "Spirits...it's terrible... It's coming... Worse than Ozai and the war. Worse than anything we've ever faced. And Spirits help me, I don't know if I can stop it..."

Katara was taken aback by his words and the hopeless, fearful tone of his voice. "What's coming?" she asked, terrified of what it could be.

Aang looked up at his wife, his face as white as fresh snow. "Terror, death, destruction, damnation... Hell itself opening up. And the end of...everything..."

* * *

And done.

Now Azula stands poised and ready to usher in the apocalypse, with all four Chaos Gods supporting her. Who will stand with Aang against her, who will die and who will fall to Chaos?

Yes, there will be other Avatar characters that will fall to Chaos. Four of whom will each fall to a single God and become the most terrible of Azula's warriors.

I leave that for you to ponder who.

And as always, hit that button and give me a review.


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